


Windows Let You See Sunshine

by Hiver_Frost_Elf



Series: STAR Blazers [1]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: #HashTag, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Author Commentary, Crookbook, Disney Haters Go Away, Elf Wizards Riding Unicorns, Gen, Google Translate Narrates, Hugs, Inspired by Lots of Fanfics, Pizza Omelet, Possibly the Only Fic on AO3 Featuring a Len Who Won't Shoot You for Asking Him to Reenact Let It Go, Texting, Русский | Russian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-08-21 20:03:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8258954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hiver_Frost_Elf/pseuds/Hiver_Frost_Elf
Summary: Every monthish, Mick Rory loads up his truck with everything he needs to enjoy a good ole fashioned barn burning! Or cabin burning. Or whatever burning.  He does end up using his pyromania kit this month, but he doesn't end up enjoying what he burns.Oh, and uh, btdubs, one of his family members is a lab rat and/or government conspiracy.





	1. Plot

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Sunshine](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6126724) by [dreamerbydawn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamerbydawn/pseuds/dreamerbydawn). 
  * Inspired by [Lil Bro](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6638371) by [nirejseki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nirejseki/pseuds/nirejseki). 
  * Inspired by [Sticks and Stones](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4041466) by [pissedoffeskimo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pissedoffeskimo/pseuds/pissedoffeskimo). 



> Unbetaed, barely edited, everyone sucks at summaries.
> 
> If you didn't write any of these lovely fics that inspired me, all of them are on AO3; please give them as many kind comments and kudos as you can. If you did write any of these lovely fics that inspired me, please please please don't hate me; you're all super talented, and thank you for gathering enough courage to post your awesome fics.
> 
> 99% of you will probably figure out Spoiler Character's identity (if you don't already know from crossovers), but if you're in the 1% I feel your pain! I can't solve a mystery despite a childhood of classic Scooby-Doo.

Dirty blond butch cut, dark-bearded-and-browed Mick Rory left Central City to assuage his itchy lighter finger and encountered a cabin with walls that chilled from the outside.  This Freezer of Solitude defied June’s tantrums.  He grumbled as he contemplated abandoning it until he noticed that it had no windows… and only one door....

He donned his Salvation Army coat and gloves strewn in his truck—Central City wasn’t blizzard alley, but emergencies can and do happen—before venturing forth.  Mick aimed.  A gasp warned him that someone was inside after he kicked in the door, halfway breaking his foot in the process. 

The captive who huddled in a corner on the opposite side of the cabin expected agony.  His auburn hair was hand-clipped and invaded his eyes when he lowered his gaze; his eyes currently hosted ponds.  He shivered because he only wore scrubs in this wintery wasteland. 

The inside was glacial and metallic, ignoring the memo that everything else within a 100-mile radius was wooden and warm.  Austere furnishings reigned supreme.  The thing in this room that came closest to comfortable was a leather couch: material that absorbed cold. 

Mick’s exponentially agitated breath became a fog machine as he holstered his pistol, marched across the cabin, and crouched, “Let’s get you outta here, yeah?” 

The captive winced and shuddered at Mick’s touch.  His tension became confusion when Mick buckled him into his truck.  The captive could’ve fit two of his fingers per finger in Mick’s gloves.  Mick’s coat draped over his knees.  He witnessed Mick torch the place and turn his back on the infernal inferno. 

Mick wasn’t a planner like Len, but he had common sense and protective instincts.  The former told him not to bring this kid to a hospital because whoever was resourceful and obsessive enough to build this jail would be on the lookout for anybody remotely matching his description.  The latter told him to wrap this kid in a blanket burrito and never let go.

“Got a name?” Mick grunted as the engine ignited.  June raged on; plus, hypothermia needed gradual treatment, so A/C was a go—as ambiance, not in the kid’s face. 

He trembled—less violently, sure, but what he was doing before was outright murder—and looked out the window despairingly.  His voice rasped from sloth, “He calls me names....  I don’t remember what mine is anymore.” 

Mick swallowed vomit.  Mick was thirty-one: three years older than his partner, twelve years older than his sister-in-law and… thirteen years older than this kid?  How does he know his age? 

“He warms the room so I can play with my lightning on my birthday.  That was yesterday.” 

Mick pulled over when the air to his right electrified.  The kid’s eyes glowed ghostly blue.  Cyan lightning zipped under his nails and his glow dissipated soon after his hands stop flapping a billion miles per minute.  Mick blinked long enough to question his sobriety before shrugging and continuing their pebble-littered journey to safe house #8.  Curvy roads, a gentle decline, and a seaside route gave Mick three hours to figure out how to tell Len and Lisa “btdubs, our new family member is a lab rat and/or a government conspiracy”.  Naturally, he spent this time regaling his cub in tales of their exploits instead. 

“Is that my name?” 

“Uh....” Mick foresaw him begging them to pretty please stop thieving, not for a name. “Cub is more like a nickname.  Len and Lise are better at creative crap than me.” 

Cub smiled for a heartbeat before staring out the window once more.  The sun and moon were on a date for now, yet the moon was steadily setting over the mountain Mick and Cub recently departed.  Actually, now that Mick thought about it, this was most likely Cub’s first sunrise, if not the first time he’d seen sunlight if his pallid pallor was anything to go by. 

Mick pulled into the garage feeling sicker than ever. 

Safehouse #8 lounged on the outskirts of Central City and included a backyard beach.  Feds never suspected it because why would a pair of criminals buy a vacation home with five bedrooms?  When or if they discovered Lisa was a known associate, that left two bedrooms free—by the time their marriage could be legalized, they’d gotten to the point where relying on a piece of paper to remind them they love each other sounded pathetic.  This tail-chasing logic was exactly why Len bought it for their fifth anniversary. 

 _Morning, darling, you’re back early_

_Sparky: You’re awake? Good_

Not good at all! Abort!! Abort!!! 

 _Snowy: Picked up a surprise, did you?  Lise’ll get jealous if you don’t bring her anything_

_Sparky: ....It’s a surprise for all of us_

A moment passed and Mick almost got out of the truck when Len replied 

 _How is it a surprise for all of us if you picked it?_

_Sparky: That’s how surprising it is. You’d say it’s shocking._

Puns stirred Len faster than fires calmed Mick. 

 _Snowy: We’ll meet you in the kitchen ;3_

Oh no, the winking cat emoji; Mick was doomed! 

“Are they gonna hurt us?” 

Mick lifted his head off the wheel urgently, “Absolutely not!” 

Cub watched him worriedly, “But they’re gonna be mad.” 

“Maybe, at first,” Mick ruffled Cub’s hair. “We’re family; that means nobody hurts each other no matter how mad we are.” 

“....I’m not family, though.” 

“Yeah you are,” Mick winked, “the others just don’t know it yet.” 

He gave Cub one last hug before plodding out of the truck.  Cub toed the stone floor—the poor kid didn’t even have socks, for crying out loud!—and watched Mick pick the lock with tunnel vision focus.  Seconds passed before the lock surrendered and Mick promised, “We’ll teach ya howda do this soon, but for now, don’t go outside unless at least one of us is home, alright?  Heat’s just as bad for you as cold.” 

Cub nodded eagerly, ecstatic at the notion of someone teaching him instead learning on his own.  Mick freaked out when he showed him his lightning even after warning him about it.  Perhaps this door was too dense to phase through anyway.  Phasing out of the cabin didn’t work so well.  His captor… dissuaded him from trying it again. 

Cub scuffled behind Mick, who threw off nervousness as if it was one of the schlub tank tops he favored.  Fortune favored the bold, after all.  Mick wouldn’t give them a chance to say no. 

“Surprise!” Mick side-stepped so Cub took center stage. 

Lisa squinted, Cub shrunk, and Len blinked.  Len’s widow’s peak and Caesar were perfectly in place.  Lisa’s hair was squished on one side; apparently, a couple minutes wasn’t long enough to prepare it. Oh well.  Lisa was wearing her golden, satin robe over her little black gown; Len was in his _Frozen_ pajamas: fuzzy pants and a long-sleeved tee—a gag gift from last Christmas.  He turned the tables on his family by wearing them often and willingly. 

Mick continued, “I know what you’re thinking, and I don’t care, think of a name for ‘im.” 

Len and Lisa stared an entire conversation at each other that ended when Lisa left the room to bring Cub a quilt and some socks.  Len waved them to the kitchen table.  Cub swapped Mick’s firefighter jacket for this quilt: azure squares under blue-white snowflakes.  He studied the socks for a moment before realization sparked in his eyes. 

Len wordlessly warned Mick “we’ll discuss this later” while Lisa asked, “The best way to come up with a name is to figure out what you like, so what do you like?” 

“Windows,” Cub murmured, shrinking again when the Snarts gave him befuddled blinks. 

Mick rescued him again, “There weren’t any windows back at the cabin.” 

Cub traced the spots and lines dabbling the table.  Still averting everyone’s gazes, he added, “....Windows let you see sunshine.” 

Len dubbed him Solnishko. 

“That’s wonderful, Lenny,” Lisa agreed before enlightening the Rorys. “It’s Russian for ‘sunshine’.  C’mere, I’ll show you the rest of the house.” 

Solnishko was taller than Lisa, but they looked the same height with his compact posture.  Lisa led him down the hall so the older pair could talk. 

Living room, bathroom, towel closet, bedrooms, blah blah blah.  She skipped the basement for now.  The tour ended in what was now Solnishko’s room.  It was undecorated and sterile.  Solnishko headed straight to the window, plopped onto the carpet crisscross applesauce, and gazed outside like puppies watch TV in _101 Dalmations_. 

Lisa smiled with a short snicker, “You can enjoy the view later; you should sleep now.” 

“I can sleep later,” Solnishko insisted, his attention immovable from his namesake. “The sun’s out now.” 

“And it’ll be out later when it’s a reasonable time for humans to wake up.  We’ll make sure you don’t miss it, but you didn’t sleep on the way here, and you definitely didn’t sleep wherever you were.  I’ve worn eyeshadow less vibrant than yours.” Solnishko touched his eyelids as if colors could be felt.  He got up and inspected the bed tactilely while his other hand clasped the quilt.  Lisa set pajamas foraged from Len and Mick’s dresser down on his bed, “Sleep well, sunshine.” 

“You too, Lisa,” Solnishko held his hand out to shake Lisa’s until she offered a hug.  He zoomed into it—literally, her widened eyes informed him.  He dreaded rejection until she asked what else could he do.  He stepped back and rubbed his hands until his eyes began glowing.  Lightning raced around his wrists, then arced between his fingertips before returning to his blood. 

Excitement electrified her face.  She clasped her hands on his shoulders, “I’m glad Mick found you.  Whoever had you last didn’t treat you like you deserve.” 

“Yes, he did,” Solnishko frowned. “I’m freaky.” 

“You’re special.” 

He didn’t believe her.  Truth from a stranger wouldn’t going to cancel out lies from his captor overnight.  No matter. Lisa was nothing if not persistent. 

Len was nothing if not patient, “Lightning?” 

“Yep,” said Mick with one arm dangling behind the back of his chair. 

“Glowing eyes?” 

“Yep.” 

“From a freezer?” Memories of Lewis’s punishments whitened Len’s knuckles.  It wasn’t a punishment for this kid, it was his entire life… minus birthdays, apparently. 

“Cub stays.” 

Len quirked, “I never said he was leaving.” 

“Of course, he’s leaving; I’m taking him shopping!” Lisa barged in. 

“Right now!?” 

“Yes, Lenny, I’m gonna drag a guy who’s never seen a store all over Central at six o’bleh in the morning,” Lisa smacked his shoulder, “No! Not right now!  I’ll settle for how he’s related to us.” 

“Mine,” Mick set his fist on the table then raised his other hand to his forehead. “I’ve had it up to here with freeloading in-laws; it’s high time Lenny had to deal with one, too.” 

Len rolled his eyes and feigned disgust while the other two bantered.  They all said good ~~night~~ morning and filed back to their rooms.  Mick made pit stops in the bathroom and Solnishko’s room first. 

“Hey, Cub.” 

“Is it a reasonable time for humans to wake up yet!?” Solnishko jolted upright. 

Mick chuckled at Lisa’s humor retroactively, “Not yet, buddy.” 

How long was that tour anyway!?  He and Lisa needed to talk about what habits to not infect his little brother with… after he talked to Len about how to resist pouty faces.  Solnishko ended up with ~~one~~ ~~three~~ five extra minutes of ensuring the sun was indeed staying in the sky.  Mick barely averted conceding completely to the expression that denounced the merits of free will. 

Mick ruffled Solnishko’s hair again and wiped the oil on his pants as he left.  Thank god for jeans, aka wearable napkins. 

“Ah, my rough and gruff husband has discovered he is mortal,” Len smirked with an airy snort. Translation: stampeding laughter.  His hands pillowed his neck as he sat up against the headboard, “Hmm… freeloading in-law versus another pouting sibling....” 

He pretended to contemplate the horror while Mick fished through their dresser.  Mick yanked off his wearable napkins and yanked on one of his aforementioned schlub tank tops.  This was no ordinary schlub tank top though, this was the why-are-we-washing-this-instead-of-throwing-it-away schlub tank top.  It had more stains than its original color and more holes than its original fabric.  Lisa hated it.  Len tolerated it. 

“Lise’ll never let you anywhere near a clothing store if you insist on wearing that.  His powers probably mean he should eat as much as you, at the bare minimum.” Translation: I’ll buy clothes, you buy groceries. 

Mick agreed as he plunked into his side of the bed, “Sounds good to me, Lenny.” 

Three hours and twenty-one minutes later—Len’s OCPD timing told them—they heard music coming from the living room: cheerful, upbeat… and French???  No intruder would intentionally make noise while intruding, so Mick and Len disentangled to investigate. 

They discovered Lisa showing Solnishko _Aristocats_.  Lisa craned upside-down over the couch to report, “He got gypped out of fourteen years of childhood, and I’m always up for a Disneyathon.” 

He was sitting beside her in his borrowed pajamas.  Lisa knocked on his shoulder to get his attention.  He whipped to face her, followed her line of sight, and then asked the older duo, “How do the pictures move?” 

Lisa handed Len his sketchbook from the coffee table while Mick mixed everybody’s coffee: black for him, extra creamy for Len, and worse than soda for Lisa.  She must’ve already brewed a pot for them.  Her culinary expertise plateaued at “poison checking”, but all Americans know how to operate a coffee machine. 

Mick was debating how to introduce the drink to Solnishko when he picked up a blur of whimpers, dropped everything, rammed past a paralyzed Len, and found Lisa frantically consoling a mess bracing himself against a corner.  Solnishko’s deer-about-to-die eyes were glowing and his voice sounded like dubstep Vader. 

“ **Mickpromisedyouwouldn’thurtmenomatterhowmadyougotI’lldrawbetternexttimeIpromisejustgimmeanotherchancepleasedon’tfreezemepleasepleasepleaseIdon’twannabecoldandaloneinthedarkanymore!!!** ”

That was as far as he got before Mick hugged him tight, reminding him he wasn’t there anymore and nobody with a lick of common sense would ever treat him like that again.  Solnishko was warmer than a normal human, and his heartbeat fluttered faster than a hummingbird.  Those conditions threw hospitals out of the question altogether if either or both were his baseline. 

Len retrieved his sketchbook from the floor.  He approached gingerly at the sight of Mick rabidly tightening his grip on his brother, “We don’t hate your drawings, Solnishko.”

“Mick, you need to see them!” Lisa exclaimed. 

Them??? 

Solnishko held his breath and slammed his eyes shut when Len flipped through illustrations he’d speed-drawn.  Mick’s jaw crashed at a forensic rendition of him exploding through the cabin door, aiming downward, and then reaching towards the viewer.  It ended in a hand shakily accepting his.  Ink darkened the background.

Mick teared up, so Len spoke for him, “We will never punish you no matter how it turns out, but you’re not good; you’re great.  We’ve stolen million-dollar pieces that didn’t have half the talent yours do, and their artists spent hours on them.  You masterfully crafted a flipbook in seventeen seconds.  But it’s not the time you put into a piece, it’s the passion.  I should’ve seen that passion for what it was—fear—and I’m sorry I didn’t.”

“I should’ve seen it too,” Lisa sniffled. “....Do you wanna keep watching the movie now or save it for later?”

“ **What do you wanna do?** ”

“I’m asking you, silly.”

“ **....Now?** ” Solnishko winced and gripped his throat. “If that’s okay?”

He treated his lightning like a pet—not that he’d ever had a pet, but that’s what he imagined pets were like—viewed his glowing eyes as an afterthought, and speed drawing was somehow tied to punishments, yet he was embarrassed by vibrating vocal cords?

They’d talk about it later.  For now, Mick crushed and tossed the last of their bacon, peppers, ham cubes, eggs, and cheese into a mega omelet and baked it.  Len—who looked scholarly adorable in reading glasses—blearily sipped his overdue coffee while double-checking the grocery list with Mick, pausing when Mick sliced the mega omelet in quarters.  Len set out plates, napkins, cups for orange juice, and forks.  Lisa followed the smell of food, yet Solnishko didn’t budge.  Once again, he looked like a puppy from _101 Dalmatians_. 

“If you sit too close to the tv, you’ll turn into a girl,” coffee dripped out Len’s nose at Lisa’s prank. 

“Nuh-unh!” 

Mick was proud of his little brother for not being an idiot until Lisa, perched prim and proper in her seat, smirked wickedly in Solnishko’s direction and drawled, “I used to be a boy.” 

Solnishko zipped into his seat inhumanly fast, even for him.  Mick groaned as he plopped an omelet in Solnishko’s plate, “Next thing I know, you’ll be tellinim kids come from storks.” 

“Kids don’t come from storks, kids come from goats.” 

WTF!? 

“Kids are young goats; young humans are called children,” Solnishko grinned before blanking into reciting-this-off-a-cue-card, “Children come from wombs, ideally after at least nine months of development, but advances in medicine and technology such as incubators drastically improve a premature infant’s survival rate.” 

Well, if he knows all that, then he must’ve had the Talk at some point. 

Whatever deities are listening, don’t make Solnishko need the Talk. 

If he needs the Talk, don’t let Lisa give it!  She’ll enter “babies” in Google Maps, and he’ll be begging for a road trip to see Baby City or wherever.  He’ll probably pout for it, too.  Speaking of which… 

“Stop teachin’ my brother your bad habits,” Mick cuffed Lisa—gentler than usual in case Cub didn’t understand slapstick yet.  He had a feeling he would if Lisa planned to catch up on fourteen years of childhood starting with cartoons. “He’s already a champ at pouting and trolling; I swear to god, if you give ‘im makeup tips, I will torch your girly-mirror-desk.” 

Lisa slammed her hand on her chest as if she was horrified, “But Lenny stole my vanity for my birthday!” 

“And Lenny stole my lighter for mine,” Mick countered.  Len made a FML face plant on the table while Mick continued, “so if you wanna keep our gifts from interacting, I suggest you remember that Rorys don’t wear makeup.” 

“Except yo mama: the Bearded Lady!” 

“Shut the fuck up,” Mick growled with his mouth full. 

Meanwhile, Solnishko had been stressing over his fork-wielding technique, so Len rolled his own omelet up to demonstrate that it could, if desired, be eaten without utensils.  Solnisko followed Len’s lead.  His relief was visible in his no longer glowing eyes.  Mick heard his husband’s inner clock ticking.  He bet Len would figure out everything about Solnishko’s powers within the week. 

It was ten o’clock on a Tuesday, so that better translate to 95% of the population working or schooling, or Mick would collect for the hell they’d pay.  The younger duo more than happily continued their Disneyathon after exchanging see ya laters.  They commandeered Lisa’s Carolla since they’d be gallivanting within civilization, and the cops hadn’t caught on to her less than legal hobbies despite a year after officially beginning them. 

“Good job threatening her vanity,” Mick remained clueless until Len’s elaboration made him feel stupid for not thinking of it himself. “That way, when we walk in on Lise inevitably painting Solnishko, he’ll see further proof that he doesn’t have to behave like an ang—” both of their phones buzzed. 

 _Goldendoodle: Pick up Lion King if you see it_

_Snowy: Why are you texting both of us? You know Mick’s driving. And why Lion King?_

_Goldendoodle: I’m group texting u in case he says something that pertains 2 both of u… such as how he’s fallen in <3 w/ :3 and cartoons. Lion King = best of both words :)_

_Snowy: Any other demands, your highness???_

_Goldendoodle: I WILL HURT U IF U LET MICK BUY CLOTHES_  

Len chuckled before he relayed this info to Mick.  They didn’t receive anything else until they split up at the parking lot and began their missions.

 _Goldendoodle: He also <3 stars_

_Absolutely NO fast food or burgers for the rest of the month. Hamburgers were his normal food, cheeseburgers were his weekend food, and baconburgers were his “this pic satisfies my narcissism” food T_T_  

Cue guilt from earlier feeling ignored and screaming for attention.  And thanks for explaining his fork issues. 

Len inspected his selections after Lisa texted

 _NO YELLOW he likes red & blue tho_ 

Mick grabbed a green sketchpad—the largest size available didn’t come in red or blue—and pretty much the store’s entire supply of pencils, pens, pencil cap erasers, and pencil sharpeners.  Who knew black pencils were a thing before today? Nobody!  He swiped its last copy _Lion King_ before a hipster toddler whined their parent into buying it. 

Shirts, sneakers, jeans, and accoutrements boasted Len’s rapidity.  Mick stuffed the mostly groceries in the back and flicked on the A/C by the time Len arrived with a bag from Home Depot.  Mick tilted his head until he saw what was in it: glow-in-the-dark stars, “You bought my brother a fuckin’ night light?” 

“Night lights,” Len corrected before turning serious. “Pretend they’re decorations for his room if it’ll help you sleep better at night, but these will help him sleep better at night.  He’s obsessed with sunshine, and those drawings were darker than Halloween.  Solnishko can do many extraordinary things, but he can’t do everything extraordinarily.  Blanket burritos don’t cure fourteen years of isolation, Mick.” 

Mick bit his lip.  As much as he wanted to prove Len wrong, that wouldn’t be fair to Solnishko.  Len drove home after they swapped seats. 

Predictably, they found Lisa taking an ussie with her cousin.  “Brother-in-law’s younger sibling” took too long to say, so cousins it was.  Solnishko said “cheese” upon command with no stretch whatsoever.  Mick heaved a stack of ice cream tubs onto the table and twitched when they emerged from the hall, “What the hell, Lise!?  Cub looks like a fuckin’ raccoon!” 

“A fuckin’ adorable one,” she grinned as she sent the pic to their phones.

 _Lisa beamed, proud of her handiwork while Solnishko came up with zilch on how dairy and photos became bedfellows #firstphotoever #fuckinadorableraccoon #hashtag_  

Len’s fumes would set off smoke alarms.  He tolerated Lisa’s tendency to tag, but he reserved a torture chamber exclusively for #hashtag.  Naturally, Lisa caught onto this and used it as often as Lisaly possible.  She justified them and the folder on her laptop labeled “Crookbook” as the social media experience her part-time thievery necessitated forgoing.  Len, who was a Facebook purist despite not having a Facebook account either, rolled his eyes in disgust.  Mick ignored her, not caring beyond its mood-killing abilities… unless Mick wanted Len angry >;) 

Cub inched into the kitchen, looked up at Mick, and trembled, “Pleasedon’tburnLisa’sstuffIcanwipeitoffifyouwant.” 

He winced when Mick patted his shoulder, “I don’t mind if you don’t.” 

Cub tilted his head toward Mick’s hand and received an ear scratch for his troubles, “We were sitting around forever!” 

“It was, like, ten minutes, max,” Lisa scoffed as she brought in garlic bread and other pasta fixings.  Len taking bags out of the truck, her bringing them inside, and Mick putting them away formed their usual train. “But seriously, if you don’t like it, we won’t do it again.” 

“Um…” Solnishko seemed stuck between what-answer-does-my-interrogator-want and oh-wait-I-don’t-have-interrogators-anymore. “It itches.” 

“Why don’t you go wash it off in case it’s an allergy?” Lisa nodded understandingly. 

Solnishko left and returned at normal speed.  Lavender bruised his eyelids, and silver dusted his cheeks.  He didn’t hate makeup on principle, “Maybe… not so much next time? Or as long? Or so soon?” 

Lisa agreed as she left to retrieve more bags.  Answering the first should answer the second, and Lisa knew better than to try anything before somebody was ready. 

Solnishko watched Mick put everything away so he would know for next time.  Mick knew he didn’t buy any burgers, so his head collided with a cabinet when Solnishko said, “These are the weirdest burgers I’ve ever seen.” 

“Mick Rory, I know I—oh,” Her blitz across the kitchen halted. “Sunshine, those aren’t burgers, those are cookies.” 

Solnishko was holding a package of Mega Stuf, aka the one kind of Oreos that didn’t have its catchphrase labeled bolder than Vegas.  Solnishko stared at her as if he’d encountered an elf wizard riding a unicorn, “Cookies are real???” 

Mick removed the hat lid to dump them in their snowman jar.  Solnishko’s breathing shallowed, his eyes fluttered throughout the kitchen, and he fidgeted.  Plastic bags flung to the ceiling when he finally broke and bolted.  Mick abandoned his third of the train and followed his brother’s whimpering into his room.  Mick lay on his belly to look under the bed, “Hey, Cub, what’s the matter?” 

“ **....I’ve never seen so much food in my life!** ” 

Mick pillowed his neck with one arm and reached out to his brother with his other one.  Solnishko shuffled back until his toes thunked against the wall.  He buried his face in the carpet to stifle his sobs.  Mick crawled over to the side.  There was two inches at most between the bed frame and Solnishko’s vibrating back.  Mick risked rubbing it anyway.  It was like Solnishko was receiving the entirety of Crookbook at once: as soon as he centered, another damn pic downloaded. 

“ **Too much… everything....** ” Intertwining tears plowed some of his flesh out from under the leftovers of #fuckinadorableraccoon. “ **Smells… noise… light… space** … **textures....** "

Mick got up and closed the curtains.  Their off-white color and thin material filtered light without blocking it completely.  Otherwise, blue-gray dimmed the room when Mick drew the door close to closed, keeping it open enough to allow an aura from the hallway to shine through. 

Lisa and Len looked at him somberly.  Mick shrugged, unsure what to do.  He’d never felt more useless.

He remembered when Lisa first moved in with them and couldn’t relax if a bottle of beer was in the same room as her.  She’d yelp and pivot to face anybody taller than her who approached her from behind, especially male strangers. 

Len was worse.  They met in juvie.  He wouldn’t give Mick a chance to get behind him, and his breath hitched at whoever accomplished the feat.  Len stared at him as if he’d explode any second—not that he blamed him, his pyromania warranted a wheelbarrow of paperwork by then.  Their age difference meant Mick was brutish until they stood side by side and back to back in their twenties. 

Lewis Snart’s “lessons” were all either sibling expected out of anybody pre-Mick: aka Kindness Overload.  Solnishko had to deal with three people he’d known for less than a day who were confusing as hell, an environment he’d spent all of six hours in, a radically different temperature, sensory overload, and resurrecting powers on top of that.  It was a miracle he didn’t break down sooner. 

It was a miracle he found enough pieces to cobble together and emerge thirty minutes later… looking more exhausted than ever, and who would blame him?  The snowflake quilt came with him.  He reluctantly unwound it from his weedy physique.  Tactile stimulus grounded him.  Anything soft and flexible reminded him he wasn’t back there. 

Mick simplified lunch: grilled cheese and tomato soup with milk on the side.  It occurred to him that they never asked what his captor gave him to drink....  Straight up water, of cotton-pickin’ course!  Oh but on birthdays, he got Moxie! Whoo-hoo! Variety! 

Solnishko watched how everybody handled their sammiches before daring to poke his.  Mick chomped and slurped, Len ate as an afterthought while he read a stolen newspaper, and Lisa dunked hers like a cookie and wiped the excess soup on the bowl.  Mick worried about him—they all did—because all Cub did was poke it.  He was too tired to eat and too hungry to sleep. 

Pokes became nibbles. 

Nibbles became bites. 

Bites became swallows. 

He ate a little over half before setting it down and sitting back.  They counted it as a victory that he managed to drink all of his milk.  Len caught him just in time before he crashed to the floor.  Solnishko, dazed at what almost happened, blinked.  The older trio’s voices blurred into a cacophony of fretting in his defrosting ears. 

A firm weight embraced him.  Sasquatch on one arm, scaly on the other informed him it belonged to Mick.  Lisa joined in, and so did Len after a pinching tug from her.  Solnishko was a dollop of frosting in the center of their donut. 

He yearned to return the hug, but his arms had folded against his chest amidst this havoc.  He also didn’t dare speak after last time.  The ice in his throat crackled at its demise.  The only voice that didn’t sink was the one his captor pounded him to perfect, so Solnishko nuzzled against Mick’s buzz of a beard.  Lisa left first to go paw at the JC Penney bags and their crinkly plastic goodness, followed by Len who loaded the dishwasher and started its cycle, and then Mick after giving his brother a once-over.  He grunted his approval and handed Solnishko the quilt before wiping off the table.  Solnishko yelped a yawn as soon as he curled it around his shoulders.  He returned to his room for a proper nap.

The End!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of the plot of WLYSS. Chapter 2 is my commentary; Chapter 3 is Google Translate Narrates. Thanks for reading :) enjoy what you do here and everywhere :D


	2. Commentary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As River Song says, "Spoilers!" Mostly for Rogue in the Lightning if you haven't guessed who Spoiler Character is. Maybe something in here might spoil canon, but I don't think so, and if it does, I'm pretty sure you're all set as long as you've caught up. Either way, you've been warned.

Every time I get a new movie, I search the back of the box for the word “commentary”.  Hearing someone talk about their work enthralls me more than the work itself.  Statistically speaking, I can’t be the only person who’d read such a thing for a story; realistically speaking, I probably am, so feel free to flee to greener pastures. 

All fanfics take inspiration from a source material; otherwise, we’d just call them fics.  Some fanfics take inspiration from another fanfic.  This fanfic takes inspiration from three fanfics. 

The basic premise comes from nirejseki’s _Lil Bro AU_ and pissedoffeskimo’s _Sticks and Stones_.  The former floods me with laughter, but the flood has receded an inch after rereading part one and concluding, “Uh, Mick, you kidnapped Barry—consensually, sure, but still!”  So one of my goals for _WLYSS_ became: clarify beyond a shadow of a doubt that Barry is not in a good place.  An orphanage is hardly ideal either, but not even Joe would argue Mick should’ve left Barry in a Freezer of Solitude.  Mick assuaging his pyromania explained why he’d be out in the middle of nowhere to stumble upon said Freezer of Solitude. 

I’m sure most of you figured out that Solnishko is Barry before you began enduring this commentary given that _WLYSS_ contains obvious information such as character descriptions and Lewis hates his kids, but I first admitted this fic existed to my friends.  I revised it to accommodate the fact that none of them have seen an episode of _CW Flash_ , which is just as well since the entire series is canon noncompliant anyway. 

_Sticks and Stones_ provided the “Eobard kidnaps Barry” half of the premise.  It’s not for the weak of heart, but it’s good.  It got me questioning Eobard’s methods and motives, not just in _Sticks and Stones_ , but here and in the show as well. 

“Flash hauled Barry what, two blocks away???  Eobard could’ve WALKED and killed Barry as soon as Flash dashed off.” 

And in fics where the name of the game is to obtain Barry, “Why didn’t he take Barry the night he murdered Nora?” 

Which leads to, “Why didn’t Eobard kill Henry?  Nobody forgets how to stab people after screaming at their nemesis.” 

“Why does Eobard wanna go home so badly?  Yeah, he’s walking in ‘a world of corpses’, but does he ever say anything particularly pleasant about his time?  He can eat as many burgers as he wants here!  He’s a genius among geniuses in Flash’s time.  He can inspire Flash to idolize HIM.  He can inspire Central City—if not the world—to idolize him.” 

“I don’t remember feeling particularly vulnerable to time-traveling sociopaths when I was eleven.  Why does Eobard show up on that night?  Screw that night!  I can send him to whatever point in Barry’s life I choose!” I’ve read at least 100 fics in this fandom and none of ‘em alter the timeline in this fashion, which I believe qualifies as a severely underutilized prompt, so if you feel the same way, go for it :)  This is one of my original thoughts—who knows, maybe somebody else has done it already and I missed it—so please credit me if I inspired you. Thanks! 

“Speed Force???” 

I answered those questions by beginning an exercise _Rogue in the Lightning ~ Eobard’s Perspective_.  I won’t guarantee it’ll become a full-fledged fic, and even if it does, it’s gonna take a while before anybody sees it by virtue of it being the entire series up to his demise.  I have LOTS OF PLOTS to get through, so your sanity/patience will be better off if you forget this entire paragraph.

Barry’s rename comes from Russia with love.  That and Len and Lisa’s ethnicity was inspired by dreamerbydawn’s _Sunshine_.  I know nothing about Russian.  Research via lurking in the comments has advised me that “Solnishko” is the proper way to address a male.  Please let me know if this is incorrect.  Considering that I plan to have Barry use German anyway, I probably should’ve renamed him “Sonnenschein” but :P  Central City has a ton of bi-or-more-linguists??? 

Wow, I haven’t even begun discussing the actual text.  Seriously, if y’all wanna abandon ship, go for it.  Consider the preceding section the part where movie commentators talk over the logos.  I’m reading through the fic and writing down anything that comes to mind.  Not everything warrants a comment, but any comments I make should follow the progression of the piece.

 

As I stated earlier, Mick stumbles on the Freezer of Solitude due to his pyromania.  I imagine he goes out every month or so, burns down whatever unoccupied cabin he encounters first, and watches it blaze.  He doesn’t watch this one. 

Barry in scrubs is another nod to _Sticks and Stones_.  Not that I call him Barry at any point in _WLYSS_ : which wasn’t a choice geared towards my never-seen-the-show friends, it was an artistic one to demonstrate the development of his identity.  Barry goes along with Mick not because Barry trusts Mick to treat him well, but because he trusts Mick not to treat him as badly as Eobard does. 

Regarding Barry’s physical health… if the Speed Force can keep his muscles good to go after a 9-month coma, it can keep him alive after years of neglect and abuse.  This is pre-particle accelerator, mind you—and before you ask, no, Eobard has not been drugging him with Velocity.  Barry’s lightning is naturally blue.  The Freezer of Solitude has to be that cold and the door and walls have to be that thick to stifle his powers and prevent phasing, respectively.  I know slightly more about treating hypothermia than I do about Russian, but before you tell me I did that wrong too, keep in mind that speedster powers include fast healing.  Barry got a deluxe package because Eobard did not anticipate the consequences of attempting to break the Speed Force’s one rule, and the Speed Force has access to all of time and space to enforce this rule. 

Technically, it doesn’t really time travel since it’s everywhere and everytime at once.  This is also why it only has one rule; it can’t afford to micromanage what its chosen many do.  The Speed Force considers everyone who was, is, or will be a speedster to currently be a speedster in its eyes.  This isn’t _Doctor Who_ , I promise; we’re just dealing with an entity who views time like we view air: you can’t be in front, behind, beside, under, or over air because air’s everywhere.

 

Ages.  If I can math—which I can’t, so please feel free to correct me—Mick should be 31, Len = 28, Lisa = 19, and Barry = 18.  Most fics I’ve read place Barry in his mid-twenties to accommodate his forensics degree and position at CCPD.  I don’t have to accommodate either of those things, so when the particle accelerator goes online, Barry’s going to be exactly 20 if everything goes according my skeleton of a plan for this series.

 

Mick’s blasé reaction to Barry’s powers… Mick’s a simple guy: easy to anger, easy to please.  Mick delegates complications to Len.  All that matters to him at this point is that he has a cub to protect now.

 

_Curvy roads, a gentle decline, and a seaside route gave Mick three hours to figure out how to tell Len and Lisa “btdubs, our new family member is a lab rat and/or a government conspiracy”.  Naturally, he spent this time regaling his cub in tales of their exploits instead._

Ya gotta put at least a little bit of yourself into your characters regardless of how “your” they are.  To Mick, I gave my PROcrastinating skills.

 

At the risk of overexplaining things, Mick and Len consider themselves married even though they don’t have paperwork to back it up.  If I did even more math right, they “married” when Len turned eighteen.  By the time they could get paperwork for it, they’d decided “relying on a piece of paper to remind them they love each other sounded pathetic”, so they just didn’t.  Paper is a flimsy thing; it can be burned, torn, lost, spilled on, etc.  The general consensus among CCPD is that Leonard Snart and Mick Rory are a couple of criminals—even if they lack sufficient evidence to stick ‘em with anything—CCPD just doesn’t know they’re a COUPLE of criminals. 

The particle accelerator is still under construction, yet the future Captain Cold is already infecting me with his penchant for puns.  Trust me, that one’s not half as bad as a title I’ve come up with for a “season 2” piece.

 

_Len was in his Frozen pajamas—a gag gift from last Christmas—fuzzy pants and a long-sleeved tee.  He turned the tables on his family by wearing them often and willingly._  

Nearly every Flash fic I’ve read that mentions _Frozen_ states Len hates it or at least won’t reenact it.  That’s not the case here :D  One of my early ideas for this series was a battle between Flash and the Rogues, and as soon as Cisco mentions Len’s codename, Len’s eyes would bulge and he’d stop in his tracks.  Lisa and Solnishko were gonna smile so wide.  Mick was gonna erupt, “DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MUCH SEX IT TOOK TO GET HIM TO STOP SINGING THE SONGS WHEN HE GOT HIS POWERS!?!”  And then the battle was gonna devolve into Len icing Flash while blaring _Let It Go_ and everybody except Team Flash and Mick having a spectacular time.  Later on, Lewis was going to retaliate for all the crap he got from this incident.  I’ve slated him for the sequel  >:) 

Mick, Len, and Lisa are gonna be metas btw.  Lisa’s a meta in the comics, and this may be a consequence of me not actively seeking Lisa fics, but I haven’t yet encountered a fic that capitalizes on this, so I’m gonna capitalize on this in mine!  My lineup for the Rogues Gallery contains metas exclusively, not that the Rogues’ll have issues with muggles, it just worked out that way.

 

_“....Windows let you see sunshine.”_  

With my decision to rechristen Barry “Solnishko” came the challenge of answering the question “Why would anybody wanna be called ‘Sunshine’???”  By this point, I’d already pointed out that the cabin had no windows, hence why Mick decided to check it out; it’s abnormally large for a shed, and even if it is a shed, nobody puts a shed out in the middle of nowhere.  It doesn’t have windows, ergo Solnishko rarely saw sunshine.  He spends 99% of the ride to safehouse #8 soaking in one of the many things he’d been denied for over 75% of his life.  He’s gotta be unimaginably hungry with his crazy metabolism rebooting from the cold.  He’s touch-starved for sure.  Yet what does he delay sleep for?  Something admittedly I take for granted because as I write this, I couldn’t wait for the sun to step down from the spotlight to make way for cooler evenings.

 

_Solnishko headed straight to the window, plopped onto the carpet crisscross applesauce, and gazed outside like puppies watch TV in 101 Dalmations._  

I don’t mean the worthless live action trash.  If you hate Disney, _Rogue in the Lightning_ is not for you.  If Disney is your life, hooray!  For those of y’all who don’t work with young children—I don’t either, but my mom does—“crisscross applesauce” is the classic folded legs pose.

 

_He dreaded rejection until she asked what else could he do....  Excitement electrified her face.  She clasped her hands on his shoulders, “I’m glad Mick found you.  Whoever had you last didn’t treat you like you deserve.”_

_“Yes, he did,” Solnishko frowned. “I’m freaky.”_

_“You’re special.”_

_He didn’t believe her.  Words from a stranger weren’t going to cancel out words from his captor overnight.  No matter. Lisa was nothing if not persistent._

Lisa’s reaction to Barry’s powers: silent wonder and a pep talk.

 

_“Yes, Lenny, I’m gonna drag a guy who’s never seen a store all over Central at six o’bleh in the morning,”_ _Lisa smacked his shoulder, “No! Not right now!_  

:D :D :D :D  This line holds the honor being something I can imagine myself saying in real life.  I gave Mick my PROcrastination; I gave Lisa my sarcasm.

 

_“I’ve had it up to here with freeloading in-laws; it’s high time Lenny had to deal with one, too.”_

_Len rolled his eyes and feigned disgust while the other two bantered._  

This keeps the Vanity Versus Lighter argument in character and sets up Len’s aborted “he doesn’t have to behave like an angel all the time” line.  Solnishko’s been going along with pretty much whatever the other three tell him without disagreement.  Hesitation, yeah. But he shuts up and obeys quickly when hard-pressed.  As survivors of an abusive adult, Len and Lisa would naturally pick up on this.

 

_Mick barely averted conceding completely to the expression that wordlessly denounced the merits of free will._  

Hahahahaha!

 

_jeans, aka wearable napkins_  

Amen!

 

_Len smirked with an airy snort. Translation: stampeding laughter._  

I gave Mick my PROcrastination, I gave Lisa my sarcasm, and I gave Len my… dad’s smirk: the equivalent of a normal person becoming oxygen-deprived from laughing too much.

 

_Mick yanked off his wearable napkins and yanked on one of his aforementioned schlub tank tops.  This was no ordinary schlub tank top though, this was the why-are-we-washing-this-instead-of-throwing-it-away schlub tank top.  It had more stains than its original color and more holes than its original fabric.  Lisa hated it.  Len tolerated it._  

I’d recently discovered the word “schlub”, so I finagled it into this fic.  I also just recently gave away a bunch of clothes that haven’t fit me in ages.  I swear, my family is a Sega Genesis away from a court-ordered intervention.  I know I didn’t expound on safehouse #8, but it’s safe to bet that it doesn’t have electronics from another century.  Video games? Heck yeah! Ya gotta have the classics!  _Spyro 1-3_! _Crash Bandicoot: Warped_!! _Kirby’s Adventure_!!!

 

_“He got gypped out of fourteen years of childhood, and I’m always up for a Disneyathon.”_  

In case anybody needed justification for Disney movies.  Basically, he’s allowed to act like a kid now because he never got to be a kid when he was a kid.  His pouty face helps, too.

 

_“How do the pictures move?”_  

As if Eobard would ever read to Barry, hence movies—nothing “childish” such as animation, though.... Snob!

 

_Her culinary expertise plateaued at “poison checking”, but all Americans know how to operate a coffee machine._  

If writing _WLYSS_ has taught me anything, it’s that I’m a terrible American.  I don't how to operate a coffee machine, and I won’t eat hamburgers.  They’re just so gritty and ugh  <:P  I also HATE Moxie, but the only person I have ever encountered who likes it is my dad.

 

_dubstep Vader_  

I came up with that description back in draft -1— _Rogue in the Lightning_ was originally intended to be a standalone, but that standalone ended up having so much backstory, I gave up and upgraded the backstory to the actual story—and I haven’t needed another one, so that phrase’ll return soon enough.

 

_Mick hugged x tight, reminding x x wasn’t there anymore and nobody with a lick of common sense would ever treat x like that again._  

Pop quiz: does this line refer to Mick’s relationship with a) Len, b) Lisa, or c) Solnishko? 

The correct answer is d) all of the above! *cue confetti, noise-makers, and Kermit-style flailing and cheering*

 

_Solnishko held his breath and slammed his eyes shut when Len flipped through illustrations he’d speed-drawn.  Mick’s jaw crashed at a **FORENSIC** rendition of him exploding through the cabin door, aiming downward, and then reaching towards the viewer.  It ended in a hand shakily accepting his.  Ink darkened the background._  

There’s no reason for Solnishko to go into forensics—or any career, really—but I like nodding to canon almost as much as I like ignoring it.  Humans are visual creatures, hence why we default to visual descriptions.  I always feel the need to rush through descriptions of photos, drawings, etc because I don’t want my work to be an eyesore.  I do my best to engage other senses too, but I’m not immune to humanity’s specialization in sight.  Humans don’t excel in any one function of sight—except MAYBE color vision, but that’s difficult to test animals on—yet we can do at least a smidgeon of everything.  Falcons and other birds of prey poetically have great sight, but they specialize in motion and long-distance vision.  A zoo falcon will bob its head at still viewers to create the illusion of motion so they won’t see a blurry image.  Ta-da! Science… via psychology class.  College is weird.

 

It just occurred to me that I never mentioned any sketchbooks or writing utensils back at the cabin.  I already decided that Eobard cut off Barry’s access to such stuff in year one to force Barry to forget his name ala “he calls me names....  I don’t remember what mine is anymore”, but that implies Eobard never let him even practice—if any time wasn’t crunch time—without supervision.  This nightmare fuel right here makes sleep sound like wishful thinking for me.

 

_Mick crushed and tossed the last of their bacon, peppers, ham cubes, eggs, and cheese into a mega omelet_  

I consulted my dad on this pizza omelet, and he guesstimated 10 minutes of baking time at most, assuming I’m remembering correctly.

 

_Len—who looked scholarly adorable with reading glasses—blearily sipped his overdue coffee while double-checking the grocery list_  

I’ve read a handful of “Len wears reading glasses” fics and one “Barry wears glasses” fic.  As a person who wears glasses to see, I fully support all of them.  I look ridiculously different when I’m not behind lenses, and I remember thinking I looked ridiculously different when I got my first pair.

 

_“I used to be a boy.”_  

This is modified from a prank a former associate and her sister played on their brother.  I was gonna include a couple lines where Mick and/or Len ask(s) if Barry believes that could happen, to which Barry would reply “No, but Lisa looked so happy when I came over” to reinforce appeasing-others-is-my-trademark-survival-skill, but I cut it for time/flow.

 

_“Kids don’t come from storks, they come from goats.”_  

I don’t know, CAN you go to the bathroom???  Seriously, English teachers, knock it off!

 

_She’ll enter “babies” in Google Maps, and he’ll be begging for a road trip to Baby City or wherever._  

_Savage Chickens_ did this a couple years ago and got Plano, Texas.  A newer “where do babies come from” strip answered “Hell”.  Cue commenters wondering if Plano, Texas is Hell.

 

_I swear to God, if you give ‘im makeup tips, I will torch your girly-mirror-desk_  

I didn’t know vanities had a name until I got my first _Animal Crossing_ game, so I figured Mick wouldn’t know their proper name either.

 

_“Except yo mama: the Bearded Lady!”_  

Can’t confirm because as I said, this was ages ago as I write this, but I’m pretty sure I was listening to Rhett & Link’s Yo Mama Battle during this part.  Lisa’s totally in on the behave-like-a-demon-so-Solnishko-learns-he-doesn’t-need-to-behave-like-an-angel plan.  So’s Mick, Len just has to inform him.

 

_His relief was visible in his no longer glowing eyes.  Mick heard his husband’s inner clock ticking._  

The rule of thumb I invented is that Solnishko’s eyes glow for twice as long as he’s used his powers; meaning if he panic-vibrates for a minute and a half, his eyes will glow for three minutes.

 

_I WILL HURT U IF U LET MICK BUY CLOTHES_  

To be fair, I doubt Len endorses Mick’s wardrobe either.  All this money from heisting and what does he with it? Buy another freakin’ lighter!

 

_He also <3 stars_

Stars… STAR Labs… glow-in-the-dark stars.  I planned to continue after the hug and show Solnishko trying on his clothes and decorating his room, but you know an end when you read it, and that hug was the end.  They’ll definitely show up again sooner or later, though.

 

_Solnishko can do many extraordinary things, but he can’t do everything extraordinarily._  

And that’s pretty much _Rogue in the Lightning_ in a nutshell.  Yes, he’s got superpowers; eventually, he’ll become a superhero.  Neither of those statements will wash away almost a decade and a half of torture.

 

_Solnishko said “cheese” upon command with no stretch whatsoever._  

_Lisa beamed, proud of her handiwork while Solnishko came up with zilch on how dairy and photos became bedfellows_  

Hahahaha!  When you reread your work often enough, you become immune to your humor, so I took a break between finishing _WLYSS_ and commencing this commentary, and it has made a huge difference in my reception of my jokes.  I wrote draft one in about a week, and I was apathetic by day 5.

 

_He tolerated Lisa’s tendency to tag, but he reserved a torture chamber exclusively for #hashtag....  Len, who was a Facebook purist despite not having a Facebook account, rolled his eyes in disgust._  

My mom hates hashtags on Facebook, especially after an obnoxious contestant on _Food Network Star_ sprinkled them in his speech all the time.  The judges even outright sent him home because he lacked the maturity to cooperate with others and handle his own show.  She was so happy when he left, we could’ve canceled her next birthday party and she wouldn’t have cared.

 

_He didn’t hate makeup on principle_  

Eobard is from X-thousand-whenever; whatever culture he’s from, if it’s one that exists today, would be vastly different than what it is today.  I highly doubt Eobard would’ve bothered teaching Barry gender norms for either future culture or present culture.  Eobard didn’t really teach Barry anything; he just sorta tossed books into the cabin at irregular intervals.  He probably didn’t bother gauging reading level/age appropriateness either.  At this point, all Barry knows about makeup is that Mick doesn’t like it yet Lisa does, Mick told Lisa not to give Barry any but Lisa did anyway and Lisa’s in charge while Mick and Len are away, it itches, and takes forever to apply.

 

_“These are the weirdest burgers I’ve ever seen.”_  

I took a cookie break one day while writing this fic, and we had Oreos in the cookie jar, and completely out of the blue, I thought, “Oreos are burger cookies”.  Between that and “ **I’ve never seen so much food in my life** ”, this scene basically wrote itself.  My title as Laziest Author in Existence is intact!  I hold this title because I only do five minutes of research for each story at most, and I spent that reading up on hypothermia and searching for Oreo packaging that doesn’t prominently declare “Milk’s favorite cookie”, which turned out to be Mega Stuf—yep, drop an F—so speedreading wouldn’t spoil the joke.  I may be the Laziest Author in Existence, but miraculously, I’m not the Dumbest Author in Existence.

 

_“ **Too much… everything....  Smells… noise… light… space… textures**....”_  

Speedsters need a speedy reaction time so they don’t go splat against a wall or trip over a rock every time they speed.  Speedy reaction times are useless if you don’t pick up information speedily enough to react to it.  This is a roundabout way of shouting, “Sensory overload! Reboot systems!”  Plus, he comes from a cabin cage… a cabage… a cagin?  He’s not used to processing so much stimuli at once for this long.

 

_He yearned to return the hug, but his arms had folded against his chest amidst this havoc.  He also didn’t dare speak after last time.  The ice in his throat crackled at its demise.  The only voice that didn’t sink was the one his captor pounded him to perfect, so Solnishko nuzzled against Mick’s buzz of a beard.  Lisa left first to go paw at the JC Penney bags and their crinkly plastic goodness, followed by Len who loaded the dishwasher and started its cycle, and then Mick after giving his brother a once-over.  He grunted his approval and handed Solnishko the quilt before wiping off the table.  Solnishko yelped a yawn as soon as he curled it around his shoulders.  He returned to his room for a proper nap._  

I’m still not 100% satisfied with the ending, but it’s better than the one that gave me the epiphany “this ending sucks!!!”  Unless I receive divine inspiration for another one, this’ll be it.  So yeah… this is HFE signing off on my commentary for _Windows Let You See Sunshine_.  I’m sorry if I bored you.  What’d y’all think?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for taking time out of your busy (or not so busy) schedules to read this :) Comments/kudos/complaints/comparisons/critiques/contrasts/questions are welcome and appreciated.


	3. Google Translate Narrates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Windows Can See the Sun
> 
> Every monthish, Axel is strew with the living, and let all the grain is related to the man of prosperity be joyful, Ole, she longs for the granary of his truck's burning! Or burning cabin. Or whatever burning. And it does not end up in the same month kit for pyromania, but they end up enjoying it burns.
> 
> Oh, and uh, btdubs, single family members is lab rat and/or a government conspiracy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to another bonus chapter of WLYSS. I'm amidst finals, one of my cats (Twix) died this Monday, and I haven't really posted much lately, so I needed something painless and funny to post. If you're not familiar with the Google Translate Sings concept, basically, I eviscerated WYLSS via some layers of the aforementioned service and then translated them back into English. I claim no ownership of Google Translate Narrates, so if you wanna use it for your own fics, feel free to do so.
> 
> I chuckled at some lines, but let me know what y'all think of the concept in the comment section below. I'll probably GTN the main parts of STAR Blazers regardless, but encouragement may inspire me to GTN them sooner.
> 
> In other news, I have a new profile pic! Yay, makeovers!

A dirty blonde maid, a dark-bearded Mick Rory left the Central City to soothe his itch with a lighter finger, and collided with a cabin with walls that cooled outside. This Freezer of Solitude has challenged June's hysteria. He grumbled when he thought about giving up on him until he noticed that he did not have windows... and only one door....

He was scattered in his tracks with his rescue team coat and gloves - Central City was not a snowstorm, but there is a possibility of an emergency. Mick aimed. After stepping on the door, there was a warning that someone was inside and that my leg was being stepped on my way halfway.

The prisoner, who was pushing in a corner on the opposite side of the cabin, was waiting for the agony. His chestnut hair was cut by hand and penetrated his eyes as he lowered his gaze. His eyes harbor ponds. He was trembling because he wore only chafing in this wintry wastes.

Inside it was icy and metallic, not paying attention to the reminder that everything else within a radius of 100 miles was wooden and warm. The strict atmosphere was dominated by the thing in this room that came closer to the comfortable were the leather sofa: the stuff that had absorbed the cold.

Mick's exponentially breathless breathing, he clasped the pistol, marched across the cabin, and became a fog machine that "Let me escape you here."

The captive wounded and shuddered at the touch of Mick. His stress became confusion when Mick leaned him in his truck. The fit of the captive Mick's gloves could do two fingers per finger. Mick's coat wrapped on his knees. She saw Mick Torch and did not fold the face from the monstrous hell.

Mick does not have a planer to lane, but she had general knowledge and protective instincts. The first is not to make a child in a hospital because each one tells the story that the prison someone will need details from a distance. She later told him to wrap a baby in a blanket barito and when to go to go.

"Got a name?" Mick engine ignited as grunted. Riot on June; Plus, hypothermia requires gradual treatment, so the A / C was a fly-like atmosphere, not the child's face.

She trembled under torture, certainly, but he was the first full despairingly looked out the window and was killed. His voice rasped from sloth, "he said. I do not remember my name.... I call."

Mick swallowed vomiting. Mick was thirty-three years older than his companion, twelve-year-in-law ... and thirteen years older than this guy? How do you know his age?

"What room warm, so I could play with the power of my birthday."

Power Mick over the wireless network right on Karachi. The blue-eyed baby is obsessed. Zip Cyan's power under his fingernails and hands quickly dissipated after the brightness of a billion miles per minute stopped flapping. Mick pybl- all go, and to be scattered safely home # 8 blinked enough to question their dragon restraint before continuing on their journey. Mick curves, soften to find out how to tell the lane and Lisa out, and a three-hour coastal route "btdubs, our new family member a mouse in the lab and / Or a government plot. " Naturally, he spent time in their long history of exploiting Chung about the hole regaling story.

"That's my name?"

"Oh ...." Mick foresaw it asked us to please stop thieving, not the name. "Cub similar nickname. Len and Lise are better at creative crap than I am."

Cub smiled for a moment before staring out the window once more. The sun and the moon have on the day of the moon at the moment, but continued to take place on the mountain Mick and Cub recently departed. In fact, now that Mick thought about it, this is most likely the sun first Cub, if not the first'd seen the sun when his pallor pallid was not followed.

Mick walked into the garage he feels sicker than ever.

Safehouse #8 is on the outskirts of the central city and lounged back beach included. Why can buy a vacation home a pair of five-bedroom criminals, because the Feds never suspected him? or they love Lisa is known husband, opened the bedroom, leaving free time to legalize their marriage, they were reminded point not to rely on each other on paper, they sounded miserable. LEN why this tail-chasing logic had just bought for their fifth anniversary.

_Good morning, my dear, you're back early_

_Sparky: Are you awake? Good_

All is well! Canceled!! Canceled!!!

_Snowy: This is a surprise, did you recover? If you can not take with her jealous Lise'll_

_Sparky: .... This is our surprise to all of us_

A minute passed LEN responded almost Mick was taken out of trucks

_If you decide what to do, it is a surprise for all of us?_

_Sparky: It's funny that. You this is shocking._

LEN jokes fires Mick death pulled quickly subsided.

_Snowy: we'll see you in the kitchen 3_

Oh no, the cat wink emoticon; Mick was doomed!

"Is it possible to do evil?"

Mick lifted his head to urgently wheel, "Forever!"

Chub watched worriedly, "But to come to mind."

“Perhaps in the future," Kuba Mick'ōkalakala hair. "Let not the tribe, which means no hurt one another, to how mad we are."

"... I have family, however."

"Yeah you," Mick wink, "one needs to know now."

He gave Cuba a last Hug before plodding out of the truck. Chub to the stone floor-the poor kid or even fired, for crying out loud! -and watch Mick pick the lock and tunnel vision focus. Seconds passed before locking surrendered, and Mick i'ōlelo said, "We'll teach ya howda do this quickly, but for the time to come out or at least one of we have a house, Bob? Heat Aloha as evil for a cold."

Cub nodded eagerly, thrilled idea to teach him to read himself. Mick freaked when he showed his lightning even by warning so. Perhaps this is the door to the worst phase through anyway. Phasing out of the room did not work very well. his captor ... stop him from trying again.

Scuffled thither, the young lion, after a Mick, and threw off some excitement expression to what is, so that, if it were one of the Schlufi I Think Therefore I Spud that he humbled Tamar. Fortune favors the bold, after all. The ability to does not say no more unto them, Mick.

“Wondering!” Mick left-side and Libya took center stage.

Lisa reflected shrunk Chub Lynn blinked. As for Lentulus, Caesar perfectly in the highest rank of the widow. Dark hair was squished here; it seems to us to prepare it is not enough in two copper coins. Oh well. , Lisa was of gold, is its clothing: above the little of his toga and with a mantle of black silk; But what is the object of Lentulo, though pants and long-sleeved tee-gift is a joke during last. But the tables on his family turned away from wearing them readily and frequently.

Mick continued, "I know that you are thinking about, and I do not care, because it seems to result from the designation of I."

Senate to other conversations over the whole speed Lisa. Lisa came out to introduce a cushion socks cub. Lentulo waved them on the kitchen table. Swapped opens the cub's skin, this is the firefighter jacket, blue blue-white snow on the streets. He learned enough to finish a shot slippers.

Len warned persistent Mick, "we will discuss this later" while Lisa asked: "The best way to come up with a name is to figure out what you like, so what is it?"

"Windows,” complaints Cub back. Snarts gave him confused flashes.

Mick liberated him: "Nothing at the cabin windows."

Tabular lines and reaching the spots Mauris cub. Divert the still rings, adding, "....Window allows you to see the sunshine."

Lentulo called him Solnishko.

"It is surprising that, Lenny," Lisa agreed with our Rory. "There are Russian, sunshine. C'mere, I will show you the rest of the house.”

Lisa, however, she saw her height in the habit of Solnishko higher than any of their compact. Lisa that led the way to be able to talk with senior match.

Living room, bathroom, closet for the towels, bedroom, blah blah blah. At the moment, she missed the basement. The tour ended with what was now in Solnishko's room. It was unpainted and sterile. Solnishko went straight to the window, flopped down on apple sauce and looked out into the street, as puppies watch television for one hundred and one Dalmatia.

Lisa grinned with a short chuckle: "You can enjoy the view later; Now you must sleep."

"I can sleep later," Solnishko insisted, his attention was unshakable from his namesake. "The sun is now."

"And it will be later, when a reasonable time for people to wake up. We will try to ensure that you do not miss it, but you did not sleep on the way here, and you definitely did not sleep wherever you were. I wore eye shadow, less bright than yours. Solnishko touched the eyelids, as if a color was felt. He stood up and examined the bed tactilely, while his other hand squeezed the blanket. Lisa put the pajamas with Len and Meeks on the bed, "Sleep well, sweetheart."

"You have to Blackburn," Solnishko held out his hand to shake until Lisa's offered carrots. He zoomed to the letter informed him of his eyes widened. And unless he had reason to fear a repulse, he asked him what he was not able to do something else. Until the eyes are burning their hands and rubbed back. Lightning raced around her wrists back and forth in front of his fingertips among these arced blood.

Excitement thrilled with her face She hugged her hand on her shoulder. "I'm glad Mick finds you. The last one you did not treat you like you deserved."

"Yes, he did," Solnishko wrinkled. "I'm crazy."

"You are special."

He did not believe her. The truth of a stranger would not interfere with the lies of his captive during the night. Does not matter. Lisa was nothing if not persistent.

Len was nothing if not patient, "Ray?"

"Yes," Mick said with one arm dangling behind the back of his chair.

"Bright Eyes?"

"Yes."

"From a freezer?" Memories of Lewis's punishments bleached Len's knuckles. It was not a punishment for this boy, it was his whole life ... except birthdays, apparently.

“Cub stays.”

Len quirked, "I'm not that he leaves."

"In fact, he was leaving, and I take him shopping!" Lisa barged.

"Just now!?"

"Yes, Lenny, I pull all six in the morning o'bleh central storage for a guy who's never seen it," Lisa's shoulder, "and Nuwan Kulasekara, no! Now or never! I'm not the way for us to settle."

"I," Mick put his fist on the table then, raised his other hand to his forehead. "I've had it up to here with the freeloading in-law; it's high time Lenny had to deal with one, too."

Len rolling his eyes and feigned disgust while the other two bantered. They all say good night and morning filed back to their rooms. Mick made pit stop in the bathroom and bedroom Solnishko the first.

"Hey, Cub."

"Is it a reasonable time for people to wake up again!?" Solnishko jolted upright.

Mick chuckled at humor Lisa's back, "Not yet, buddy."

How long was the trip anyway!? He and Lisa needed to talk about the habits of not infecting his little brother with ... after talking to Len about how to resist pouty faces. Solnishko ended with a ~~three~~ ~~five~~ extra minutes to ensure the sun was actually in heaven. Mick barely rejected the expression that condemned the benefits of free will.

Mick Solnishko more oil on the hair when he went out of his pants when dried. Jeans for portable napkins. Thank goodness.

"Ah, my husband has discovered rough and rough that he is human," Lynn smirked with an airy snore. Translation: Chuck Laughter. His hands raised his neck as he sat against the frontboard, "They are... Freewading in law versus brotherhood conspiracy another...."

He pretended to think of horror while Mick caught up with their dresser. Mick Jancade of his handkerchiefs can be worn and yancked on one of his scallop tank tops mentioned above. This was not the top of a regular tank scoop though, this was the reason we-wash-this-instead-of-throwing-it-away the top tank sclop. It had more stains than its original color and more holes than the original fabric. Lisa hates it. Lin asked him.

"Lise will never allow you anywhere in the garment shop if you insist on wearing it." His powers may mean he should eat as much as you, at least. Translation: I buy clothes, you can buy food.

Mick fell down as he fell to his bed, "It looks good, Lenny."

Three hours and twenty-one minutes later - Only their OCPD timing told them - heard the music coming from the living room: cheerful, optimistic ... and French??? No attacker would deliberately disturb the noise, so Mick and Len divorced to investigate.

They found Lisa showing Solnishko _Aristocats_. Lisa turned upside down on the sofa to say, "He was fourteen years old and I was always at Disneyathon."

He sat beside her in his borrowed pajamas. Lisa knocked on his shoulder to get his attention. He whipped to face her, follow her line of sight, and then old duo asked, "How the movement?"

Lisa gave Len Sketchbook his table coffee while Mick integrated coffee all black for him, cream special for Len, and worse than soda for Lisa. She must've brewed a pot for them. Her culinary expertise plateaued at "boring" investigation, but all Americans know how to operate a coffee machine.

Mick was discussing how to introduce a drink to Solnishko. When he heard the whimpers blur, he dropped everything and passed the paralyzed Len. And I found that Lisa comfortingly comforted struggling against the edge like crazy. As for the deer of Solnishko, his dying eyes shone and his voice sounded like a dubstep Vader.

" **Mickpromisedyououldn'turtmenomatterhowmadyougotI'lldrawbetternexttimeIprromisejustimimchchatplepleasedtfreezempleplepleaseaseaseSecond 'towannabecoldandaloneinthedarkanymore!!!'**

There again, he never thought that he would be treated with common sense, a lick, and no longer had to remind him, as Mick got away before he was tight hug. Solnishko was warmer than normal human, and his heartbeat is flying faster than a hummingbird. If either or both of the state of their baseline threw the whole question out of the hospital.

Get a copy of your template to make transactions from the floor. He said, "We do not hate your drawing, Solnishko." Tightening his grip on his brother Mick rabidly gingerly close to glance.

"Mick, you need to see them!" exclaimed Lisa.

They???

He held Solnishko speeding breath and his deals through the flip-flung illustrations that would close his eyes and slammed. Mick's jaw to him, through the door of the little house down exploding sport, and then crashed into the crowd puryaumthyaum trial execution. It ended up in his hands and got shaken. Ink in dark background.

"We will never punish you, no matter how it turns out, but you're not good, you're great, we stole millions of dollars, they did not have half your talent, and their artists spent hours on their faces. You masterfully crafted a seventeen, but this is not the time you put into a piece, it's the passion, I should have seen that passion for what it was - fear - and I'm sorry I did not.”

"I would have liked it too," Lisa confused. ".... Do you want to continue watching the movie now or will it be saved later?"

" **What do you want to do?** "

"I ask you, silly."

" **....Now?** " Solnishko pulled and grabbed his throat. "If that's okay?"

She treated her as a pet - not that she had a pet, but she figured she was a pet - saw her glowing eyes as an aftertaste and the speed drawing was somehow tied to punishment, but she was confused by the vibration of the soundtrack?

They talked about it later. Now Mick smashed and threw his last bacon, paprika, ham, eggs and cheese into mega-omelets and roasted it. Len - which seemed to look like a delightful reading glass - deeply eat a fallen coffee and observe Mick's grocery list, suspending when Mick slams megamel fourth. Len put on plates, napkins, cups of orange juice and forks. Lisa followed the smell of food, but Solnishko was not tired. Once again he looked like a puppy on 101 Dalmatia.

"If you sit too close to the TV, you will turn into a girl," the coffee drops Len's nose to Lisa's farce.

"Nuh-unh!"

Mick was proud of her little brother not to be an idiot until Lisa, perched and correct in her seat, smirked maliciously in the direction of Solnishko and said, "I was a boy."

Solnishko squeezed in his seat in an inhumanly rapid manner, even for him. Mick groaned as he made an omelette in Solnishko's plate: "Then I know, you're going to say kids come from storks.

"Children do not come from storks, children come from goats".

WTF!?

"The children are young goats; Young humans are called children,” Solnishko said before becoming confused in a discovery card. "Children come from the womb, ideally after at least nine months of development, but advances in medicine and Technology such as incubators drastically improve a premature infant survival rate.”

Well, if he knows all this, he must have had the Talk at some point.

Whatever deities listen to, do not make Solnishko need the Talk.

If he needs the Talk, do not let Lisa do it! She will enter "babies" in Google Maps, and will ask for a trip to see Baby City or anywhere. He'll probably die for him too. Speaking of what...

"Stop teaching my brother your bad clothes," Mick handcuffed Lisa, nicer than usual in case Cub did not yet understand slapstick. He had the feeling that he would do it if he could catch up with his fourteen years of childhood, beginning with cartoons. "It's already a field to fly and troll, I swear to god, if you give makeup tips, I'll try your mirror girly."

Lisa slapped her hand on her chest as if horrified: "But Lenny stole my vanity for my birthday!

"And Lenny stole my brioche for mine," Mick replied. Len made a FML face on the table while Mick continued, "so if you want to prevent our gifts from interacting, I suggest you remember that Rorys is not wearing makeup."

"Except madame: the bearded Lady!"

"Sit down," Mick groaned in the mouth.

Meanwhile, Solnishko had been emphasizing his grip technique, so Len rolled his own tortilla until he could show, if desired, to be eaten without utensils. Solnisko followed Len's example. His relief was visible in her no longer bright eyes. Mick heard her husband's inner clock. He bets that Len would calculate all about Solnishko's powers within the week.

It was ten o'clock on Tuesday morning, so better they translate to 95% of the population that works or studies, or Mick charged for the hell they would pay. The youngest duo more than happy continued their Disneyathon after exchanging to see already laters. They took over Lisa's Carolla, as they were to be gallivanting within civilization, and police had not captured her less than legal hobbies, despite a year after officially commencing.

"Good work that threatens his vanity," Mick was left with no idea until Len's work made him feel stupid for not thinking about himself. "That way, when we get into Lise inevitably painting Solnishko, you'll see additional evidence that he does not have to behave like an ang ..." his two phones buzzed.

_Goldendoodle: Gather the vegetarian if you_

_Nivea: are the two of texting from among us? Do you know about the government Mick. Leo, however, what about him?_

_Goldendoodle: I said, that is if both groups texting U 2, so that he's with the <3 w /: 3 United States. King lion and with very good :)_

_Nivea: Any other demands, your highness for ???_

_Goldendoodle: will hurt U if U LET buy clothes MICK_

From the front chuckled info len Mick. The people chopped up in the parking lot, however, to a different gospel, they began to till he hath not.

_Goldendoodle have said also, of the stars <3_

_Absolutely no fast food or burgers and the rest of the month. Hamburgers, cheeseburgers weekend homework food provisions that baconburgers "He has enough narcissism pic" fuel T_T_

_Earlier screaming feelings of guilt may be drawn simply ignored._ _· And we give thanks for the things of the gallows the man explaining his._

Lentulo selections looked at Lisa texted

_No yellow, blue and red it wants_

Mick sketchpad-catching green, red and blue are not available in the greatest amount about the supply of pencils, pens, cap erasers and pencil sharpeners lead. He knew there were black pencils before it today? None! The last were swiped a copy of The Lion King Push need before buying into its parent's complaint.

The fine linen, shoes, jeans, the whole of the speed of Lynn ally of the. Flicked on and especially Mick stuffed with groceries in S / 100 has arrived at a time to bag a Lentulo Home Depot. Mick tilted her head until he saw what was in it-in-the-dark light of the stars, "My brother and I got fuckin’ night lights?"

"Night lights," Len? Before turning serious. "Pretend that you are dismal for her room if it will help sleep well the po'oe, but these will help sleep well the night with him. He's obsessed with the sun heat, and those kauō'ia, are darker than Halloween. Solnishko can do some things, but he can not do everything extraordinarily. Blanket burritos heal years the separated, Mick."

Mick bit his lips. As much as she wanted to try Len evil, would not be good Solnishko. Len drive home after they swapped lived.

As expected, they found Lisa taking her cousin and ussie. "Brothers and sisters of brother-in-law" was a cousin because it took too long to say. Soricico called "cheese" in orders. Mick stacked ice cream tabs on the table and twisted when it came out of the hall. "Why, Lycee! Cub looks like a fuckin raccoa!”

She laughed when he sent an image to his cell phone.

_Lisa was proud of her handicrafts. Soricico introduced how dairy products and photographs became bed fellowships. #firstphotoever #fuckinadorableraccoon #hashtag_

Ren smoke will give a warning of smoke. He allowed Lisa's tagging tendency, but I reserved a torture room just for # hash tags. Of course Lisa caught this and used Lissari as often as possible. She justified them. The folder named "Crookbook" by her laptop computer needed her part-time thief as social media. Even if you do not have a Facebook account, Facebook's innocent Len hates eyes. Mick ignored her but she does not take care beyond the ability to lose her feelings... unless Mick angers Len ;)

The turnip entered the kitchen, looked up at Mick and trembled. "I was able to escape thanks to Risaessan · Lisa"

When Mick knocks on his shoulder, he says, "I do not care even if you do not exist.

Cub turned his head towards Mick 's hand, "We were sitting forever!"

Lisa ridiculed as he brought garlic bread and other pasta's belongings. Ren took the bag out of the truck and brought her there, and Mick abandoned them and made a regular train. But seriously, if you do not like it, we will not do it again.

"Uh ... ..." Soricico seemed to me as if the questioner was gone, no matter what the questioner answered, ah wait, even if I was not there. "It is itching.

"Would you like to wash away in case of allergies?" Lisa nodded as I understood.

Soricico departed at normal speed and returned. Lavender hurt the eyelids and silver dusted his cheeks. In principle he did not dislike makeup, "Maybe ... is not it the next time or is it long or is it soon?"

Lisa agreed that she departed and collected more bags. Answering the first person should answer the second and Lisa knew better than trying anything before someone was ready.

Soricico saw Mick abandon everything for the next time. As Mick knew he did not buy a hamburger, when Soricico said "This is the strangest hamburger I have ever seen", his head crashed into the cabinet.

"Mick · Rory, I know me", her bomb stopped across the kitchen. "Sunshine, they are not hamburgers, they are cookies."

Solnishko had a package of Mega Stuf, also one of the kind of Oreos who was not catchphrase labeled bolder than Vegas. Solnishko stared at her as if he had received an eleven wizard against a unicorn, "Cookies are real ???"

Mick took the cap cover to dump them into their snowman jar. Solnishko's breathing was silent, his eyes fluttered in the kitchen and he fidgeted. Plastic bags were thrown to the ceiling when he finally broke and broke. Mick left his third of the train and followed his brother in his room. Mick lay on his stomach to look under the bed, "Hey, Cub, how are you?"

" **....I have never seen so much food in my life!** "

Mick pillowed his neck with one hand and reached out to his brother with one another. Solnishko shuffled back to that thunked her toes against the wall. buried his face on the carpet to stifle his sobs. Mick crawled over to the side. Two inches at most between the bed frame and a vibration Solnishko back. Mick risked rubbing it anyway. It was like that the whole Solnishko getting Crookbook at the same time: as soon as he directed, pic download other devils.

" **Too much... everything...** " intertwining tears plowed some of his meat from the leftovers of the #fuckinadorableraccoon, " **smell... noise ... light... textures... space....** "

Mick got up and closed the curtains. Their off-white color and light refined thin material without impeding it completely. Otherwise, blue-gray room dimmed when Mick drew near the door closed, keeping it open enough to let the aura of the hall to shine through.

Lisa and Len looked at him somberly. Mick shrugged, unsure what to do. He'd never felt more useless.

He remembered when Lisa first moved in with them, and cannot relax if there were beer bottles in the same room. She would yelp and pivot anyone higher than she approached from behind, especially strangers men to face.

Len was worse. They met in juvie. He did not want to give Mick a chance to get her back, and her breath hitched for any accomplished feat. Len stared at her as if she'd explode any second is not that she blamed him, it is expected wheelbarrow Pyromania paperwork until then. their age difference and because Mick was like a beast until he stood side by side and back to back in their twenties.

"Lessons" As soon Lewis was either a brother expected from anyone before Mick: Good aka Overload. Solnishko had to deal with three people you'd known for less than a day were confusing as hell, environmental she'd spent six hours in all, a large temperature difference, sensory overload, and strong recovery on the matter. It was a sign that the early break.

It is not at the same time, and was found to be a miracle it is sufficient to pieces cobble a... good-looking, more than ever, tired, and in thirty minutes emerge not find fault with those who did it? The pelt of a snowflake with him. As soon as any in the seaweed out of the body. Touch, it is the motive power out of it. Is how you get are soft and flexible not to have received.

More simple mick lunch, grilled cheese with tomato soup with milk on that side. It should never regret what happened .... Glory gave him to drink water from the cotton-pickin course; On the birthday Oh, he got Moxie! Whoo-ho! Differences?

They founded a treatise of his own, before sammich Solnishko and beheld how the man could not forget all this. Mick chomped and slurped, as an afterthought while consuming stolen Lentulo newspaper, reads and dunked his shadow, like a paste soup and wiped the excess into a bowl. Mick-worried that all those that did not all of Libya and poke it. He was too tired to eat and to sleep hungry.

Pokes nibbles it.

Nibbles bites man.

The bites swallows.

Shortly before she eats half-riding upon it. Tell all milk as a beverage achieved victory. Just as Johannes catching crashed area. Solnishko connived, amazed at what almost happened. Senior trio's voices with a common language legislation tune corrosive to the ears defrosting.

The size of the solid is included. Sasquatch have been in one arm, while the other reveals the dish does Mick. Lisa joined in, and so did John after pinching a tag. And it was the Solnishko dollop frosting donut in the midst of them.

These folds his arms in his chest, but he yearned to return to mainstream. And it was also the time of the last to speak, when there is to give. The ice crackled in the throat to its destruction. His voice was perfect to sink, he would not be, save to sorrow, and they pounded him Solnishko nuzzled in the beard, the earth is, Mick. CORRUGATED Fusce dignissim so that the left hand of his goodness, and with sackcloth, JC Penney, and after his brother's friend Lentulus, who, after any weight to a dishwasher of its cycle, and began to weep for Mick. He grunted and turned into approval of the quilt handed Solnishko table before wiping. To Solnishko yelped yawn dispersed around the shoulders. He returned to his own room nap.

The End!!!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for taking time out of your busy (or not so busy) schedules to read this. Comments/kudos/complaints/comparisons/critiques/contrasts/questions are welcome and appreciated.


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